


a point in blaming you

by forlornithologist



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 05:43:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11662788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forlornithologist/pseuds/forlornithologist
Summary: Viktor visits Jayce, then he sucks his dick.





	a point in blaming you

**Author's Note:**

> hi im going to hell

Then there was the door, which creaked all the time, even though Jayce oiled it what seemed like every day. It whines especially loud now, as if in protest of the man stepping demurely through it, or perhaps to embarrass the man opening it.

Viktor radiates disapproval at the messy workshop that comprises Jayce’s first storey.

“Do you get visitors often?” he asks dryly.

Jayce rubs the back of his neck. “No, shockingly,” he says, “Most of them are _uninvited_ , anyway.”

Viktor is unconcerned with the jab, seating himself at a drawing desk near the wall, tossing the tails of his cape. “I only came to talk,” he says.

“The epitaph of scientists everywhere,” Jayce says, self-consciously relocating a stack of diagrams so that he may sit down at a bench. “Go on then, speak.”

Viktor’s hands on his knees twitch. “The Piltover Techmaturgical Conference is meeting in a week, and several Zaunites will be in attendance, myself included.”

Jayce sniffs. “Okay?”

Viktor seems to be anticipating something, and when it doesn’t arrive, goes on: “I notify you of this now so that you don’t throw a fit, or think I’m here to steal your next great invention.”

Jayce scrubs a hand over his face. “I don’t think you’re some supervillain, Viktor. I mean, I kind of did. But I’m not exactly worried anymore. As long as you don’t mess with me, I won’t mess with you.”

Viktor is still, and Jayce swears he can hear the gears in his head turning.

Jayce says, “So come to Piltover and enjoy the fresh air, I don’t mind. I got invited to the conference but I probably won’t go. Full of hacks.”

Viktor stands briskly. “If you’re apprised of the situation, then I’ll take my leave.”

Jayce rises too. “So you came all the way from Zaun for a courtesy call?”

Viktor cocks his head, metal mask impassive. “It is the _polite_ thing to do.”

At once, the tension in the room thickens, like magic. The atmosphere hadn't been very friendly, but now Jayce is annoyed by Viktor’s frivolity. He gets the feeling Viktor’s not saying what he means, and why can’t Viktor just _say what he means?_

Jayce sidles closer, gets in Viktor’s space, says, “After the last time we crossed paths, I wouldn’t be eager to extend pleasantries.”

“That’s a difference between us, Jayce,” Viktor says, and a weird thrill runs through them both at the use of the name. The situation rapidly progresses out of control. He hasn’t moved away. 

He doesn’t move away when Jayce surrounds him, when Jayce guides them closer to the wall, when Jayce tilts his head against the mask and touches Viktor.

Viktor is not all metal, at least not yet, though his once dark eyes simmer like twin fireflies now behind the mask. Jayce can feel it even now, toned muscle rippling under his featherlight touch, like a wild horse’s flank. Viktor closes those eyes, as if he senses what Jayce is thinking, as if he hates himself for knowing. Did he come here for this?

And at once the gentle motions become cruel, Jayce gripping Viktor’s shoulders to slam him against the wall, a forearm crossing in front of the latter’s throat. Viktor lifts his chin in what he thinks is defiance, what Jayce knows is necessity to breathe. It’s almost comforting to remember Viktor breathes, until it’s not, until it’s ugly.

“Do you,” Jayce pauses, swallows. Too breathy. Too desperate. “Do you want this.”

A rock of hips back at his own: _yes._

“I need you to say it,” says Jayce, unrelenting.

“I,” says Viktor. He moves his hands up and Jayce lets him. Viktor reaches behind his head to unclasp his mask, and hesitates before pulling it off, dropping it on a counter to his left. His eyes drop, flicker up at Jayce, almost shyly, then, “Yes.”

Jayce drinks it in. The unfamiliar, angular face he’s longed to see, the surrender that came with shadows under his eyes. Power and desire surge over him; he crowds Viktor back against the wall.

“ _Prove_ it,” he says.

Viktor drops to his knees, and Jayce’s jaw drops to the floor.

Viktor spreads hot gauntleted hands over Jayce’s thighs, leaning in, just grazing his mouth against his crotch. He looks up again. Those golden augmented highbeams of his. Jayce swallows. Just when he thinks he’s taking control, Viktor undoes him with a look. 

And how must _he_ look? He snaps his mouth shut, presses his hips into Viktor’s hands. 

“Go on,” he says. He was shooting for cocky and commanding, but they can both hear the neediness of it, the want, that has Jayce biting his breath in as Viktor dutifully unbuttons his pants and pulls his cock from his underwear. The clinking unlock of a gauntlet.

Jayce braces his arms against the wall, leaning over Viktor. A rough hand-- _flesh and bone_ \--closes around the base of his cock, and a wet mouth taking him in deep. Jayce breathes out slow. 

Viktor pulls his mouth off to focus on stroking Jayce’s cock. Jayce can feel his breath coming in little puffs against his too-sensitive skin and he can’t help himself, pushes forward into him. If Viktor is surprised, he doesn’t show it, swallowing Jayce down easily. A metal hand slides cleverly from Jayce’s knee to his balls, rolling them in its palm.

He’s so quiet, so methodical. Jayce almost wants to laugh. He has always been this way. Hasn’t he?

“Wait,” he says. Now that surprises Viktor. He goes rigid, hands falling away, drawing his mouth off Jayce’s cock quickly even as his tongue drags down the underside of it. Jayce bucks into him before he can finish pulling away, and Viktor moans. It’s loud, garbled slightly by the cock inside him, and the holiest terror Jayce has ever felt. 

Jayce grins. “You like that?” He thrusts shallowly into Viktor’s mouth. Viktor can only hum, so Jayce pulls out. “You want me to fuck your mouth?”

Viktor’s face is flushed, beautiful. One hand on his crotch. He wipes his mouth with the back of his other hand. “Yes,” he says. 

Jayce takes his cock in his hand and taps it against Viktor’s face, delighting in how Viktor’s parted lips seem to chase after it. Back in control.

“You look good like this,” he says, “on your knees. I want you to beg.”

That snaps him out of it. Viktor’s face lights up with incredulity. “I’m not one of your little whores, Jayce.”

Not that Jayce even _has_ whores, but Jayce can tell when he’s bluffing, and Viktor wants this just as much as he does.

This is how it will always be: they will always pretend Viktor ever had a chance. 

Jayce reaches down a threads a hand through Viktor’s hair. “Aren’t you?” he says, airy tone an contradiction to the seriousness of his eyes.

Viktor’s laugh is brittle, pained, even as he tilts his head into Jayce’s hand, even as he lets Jayce back into him with no hesitation. Like he always will.

If it were anyone else, would Jayce take time to roll his hips in a way that made them think he knew what he was doing? Would he spend more time on articulate sentences and not--

“Yeah, take it--” “--Just like that--” “--feels so good--”

But it’s not the appropriate time for introspection, not with him fucking Viktor’s face, not with the noises Jayce can wrench out of him when he calls him _so hot_ , says _you like this you--_

Viktor groans ruinously, and Jayce abruptly pulls out to take in the sight of Viktor unraveled in the most delicious way. His hand moving languidly below, the tousled hair sticking to his skin. 

“You’re a _mess_ ,” Jayce says, and pulls on his cock until he grunts and cums on Viktor’s upturned face.

They both stay where they are for a moment, breathing hard, satisfied with and shocked at themselves and each other.

Viktor clears his throat. “Do you have a rag,” he says hoarsely.

Jayce doesn’t answer. _Viktor really let me do that. He wanted me to._

“Jayce,” Viktor says.

“Right! Yeah, I’ve got it.” Jayce tucks himself away, shuffles to the counter and wets a rag, shuffles back and crouches down. Hand on Viktor’s chin to turn his face this and that way as he wipes away all proof of whatever the hell they were thinking.

“That was good,” Jayce says, while he’s got a captive audience. “You’re. Good at that.”

“I didn’t do anything besides receive. You did the work,” Viktor says. So insistent on credit where it’s due.

“Did you like it?” Jayce’s thumb swipes over Viktor’s lower lip as he adjusts his grip.

“I believe the results speak for themselves,” says Viktor.

“...Yeah,” Jayce says.

“I liked it,” Viktor says.

Does Viktor have a place to stay for the conference?

_Should I go after all?_

Viktor’s face is clean now, has been for a hot minute, but Jayce hasn’t moved. It’s too pretty a face to keep locked away all the time. He just wants to look a little more. This time, he’ll commit it to memory. This time, he’ll remember it even when the mask is on.

Viktor for his part hasn’t objected, mercifully. Slowly his eyes open, level with Jayce’s. Inhuman, toxic yellow, so why can Jayce feel the magnet pull of feeling from that tragic gaze?  
Jayce leans in only a bit closer, and Viktor doesn’t move away. _Kiss him._

Jayce stands up and turns away. “So, how’s the weather in Zaun? Not great, I assume?”

**Author's Note:**

> yeah the title is selena gomez lyrics boy what did you think this was


End file.
